Retrieval
How do old people repair
All this hesitant retreat?
I think I know,
And then I can't tell, I know.
It has faded into its own light,
But it still bothers me.
Forgetfulness is keeping it all together,
Beyond you and me:
But I can't understand.
What lingers in the promise:
A voice for the past,
Which won't stay away,
But won't dissolve itself.
I want to think it is just a rumor,
A suspicion, a fear....
Something we wish
We would not overhear.
We have more shadows,
More shadows.
Not a bond, a gravity,
With no laughter in the heat.
We can talk about the silence.
We can share what we cannot give.
But we don't even know
What we can't say.
We are left with
Foreign metaphors and diluted rites.
What else could it be?
Take a long walk in the sun.
We can talk about the silence.
We can share what we cannot give.
But we don't even know
What we can't say.
I like this and think it a good thing! I also like the "Foreign metaphors and diluted rites." I like to think of them as an opportunity that is unstoppable although my other ear hears a different tone. Nicely done, Peter!
K.Q.
Thanks, Khalida, for listening to it many sides.
Peter